Blog 69

Every few minutes a bit of water splashes up through the floor, misting the walls. There are bits of moss and fern growing in the corners. The room would seem to have been deserted for years except for two things: The first is a large brushed steel door that is the only entrance and exit. The second is a cage set into the wall to the left of the door. It too is gleaming steel, obviously well-polished and cared for. The floor of the cage is cut grass and it gives the room the smell of outdoors and sunlight... The room is perhaps 50' long (from the door to the back wall) and 30' wide. In the exact center there is a dais raised a few inches off the floor and with a solid metal base instead of the grate. The door is wide enough for three people to walk through. It is mechanized and opens inward. The cage is not tall enough to stand in. If a human were inside it, he would be forced to his knees by the low roof and although he would have room to curl up, he could not stretch out completely. You are in this cage. You woke up there a day ago and have not seen anyone entering the room yet. There is no food, but the ferns just to the right of the cage door catch some of the streamwater as it bursts up, so you have some liquid if you need it. You are alone.

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You have been laying there for a day… two days… waiting for something, someone, or anything to happen to relive you of the constant sound of rushing water to no avail. You try to stand up and hit your head on the top of the cage, the blow sending you to your knees, swearing loudly. You look up realizing you will not be able to stand as long as you are in the cage. You back into the corner of the cage and stretch out your legs slowly easing the tension. You then move till your legs are in a corner and stretch out your upper body. The futility of this doesn’t escape you, the effort it takes to stretch must have been planned, must have been known. Someone wanted you uncomfortable. Someone seems to have gotten their wish. You are naked except for a pair of cuffs, one on each wrist. You do not know how they got there and try to take them off struggling vainly for a couple minutes and only succeed in hurting your wrists. You then scream out, cursing trying to get someone to show themselves but fail. After you have strained your voice screaming you start to hunt for a way to get out of the cage. You look out of the cage and wonder what the dais is and what it is used for… it doesn’t seem comforting, there are dark stains on it that make you think, unwillingly, of dried blood and fear. You grab onto the bars and shake them vainly knowing there is no way to get out of this situation. You look around for anything to eat or drink, the incessant noise of the water beginning to take its toll on your mind. You are very thirsty and hungry and see no food; water you could lick off a fern but you don’t want to believe you have sunk that low yet. You back into the furthest corner and pull your knees to your chest. You start rocking back and forth crying. You drink your own tears as they roll down your face, trying to drink something, not entirely caring now if the salty tears only make you more thirsty. You rock back and forth not thinking about anything but what may be going on outside, where you came from… wondering if anyone will come looking for you, if you’ll ever be set free… asking why this has happened to you.

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That’s the only thing you think when you hear a sound, something new, perhaps a distant door closing… maybe footsteps… the newness of it, how long it’s been since you heard anything but your own breathing and the rushing water, is what strikes home. You’d given in a day ago, lapping at the ferns, reaching down to try to catch some of the moisture on your fingers, then sucking them dry. It no longer seemed as humiliating to you, more necessary. A survival trait, this humbling of yourself. The silence hits you again as the sound fades away, your cramped body protesting as you thrust yourself against the bars, looking toward the door, hoping the sound you hear was someone, anyone, coming to you. Even if they were not coming to let you go, even if they were only going to feed you, at least that would be something. Your stomach growls plaintively at the thought of food – you’d tried eating a fern but it left you feeling even worse, and you’re so hungry it hurts, not used to starvation like this, to the horrible deafening silence and the knowledge that perhaps you will be left here to die. Finally... gods, you are relieved by this... you hear footsteps, slowly coming closer, steady slow pace... you watch as the huge steel door swings open, not even creaking, well-oiled. You wonder when it was last oiled, just before you arrived perhaps? Your gaze is riveted on the doorway, the darkness beyond it. You catch a glimpse of torches, then, slowly, a shadow tears away from the rest of the darkness, black fur cloak and black leather boots, copper-bright hair falling from beneath the rich green lining of the hood... and brilliant green eyes peering at you, the face shadowed by cloak, hair, and torchlight.

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Looking at the figure, quiet, worried and interested both, you begin to wonder if this is the person who took you, or merely someone who ordered it or is involved in some more distant sense. As if reading your thoughts she laughs, her voice melodic as she speaks. "Yes... You ARE as delightful as when I first saw you.. Walking along the street to the park, that first time, blissfully uncaring of the eyes on you. Tsk tsk... You, my boy, need to learn to be more aware of your surroundings, or... well, I'd say you would get into trouble, but you're already IN trouble. It won't help you now." With that, a set of gloved hands extract themselves from the cloak and pull the hood back slowly, revealing... No... It's not possible... A furre? A living, breathing Furre? She (and you can tell it IS a she.. Breasts and a soft face with long dark hair like that couldn't pass for a male in any species) gives a toothy grin at your suprise. Her teeth are unusually sharp, looking almost as if they've been filed. In one of her canines a small diamond appears to be embedded, glittering oddly as she turns her head. "I take it you noticed my... appearance? Well, get used to it. It is the only kind you shall see or hear about for a while. You, on the other hand, are one of the few... how do you say? Human? No... Terrans," she nods to herself, choosing the correct word, "On this plane." She talks on a little more, but you only hear her faintly over the stream and your own shock. Where could you possibly be? You've always dreamed of meeting one like her, and fantasized about them on more than one occasion... much to the dismay of your bedsheets. That one thought arouses you... slowly... but just enough so the femme in front of you notices.

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